


Only Through His Grace

by fingalsanteater



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kayfabe Compliant, Loyalty, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 14:47:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6243886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fingalsanteater/pseuds/fingalsanteater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke finds Bray after their Roadblock match with Brock Lesnar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Through His Grace

He's pacing, cutting a frenetic swath through the darkness. Sweat beads on his brow and his body, his skin is clammy and hot, his wet hair sticking to his face. The wait is difficult and going on too long. Triple H's music is playing and Bray is still alone. He locks away his fear that the minutes will just keep ticking by, just keep ticking while he remains alone in the dark of this room, echoes of the crowd in the arena dying until there's nothing but the sound of his own breath and no one else's.

But, the door creaks open. Bray doesn't sigh with relief when Luke enters, closing the door behind him and slumping against it. Luke steps forward and falls to his knees carelessly, less in supplication and more like his legs could not support the weight of him any longer.  
  
"I'm sorry," he says, words tight with pain and dripping with shame. "Please, Bray. Please forgive me. I failed you."  
  
He begs, down on his knees, hurting from sacrificing his body, hurting because he thinks he's disappointed the person he aches to please. Bray's fear, sitting heavy in his gut, starts to crumble.  
  
"Punish me for my failure. Anything, please," Luke says, dark eyelashes fluttering against pale skin as he squeezes his eyes shut. His desperation crushes Bray's fear to dust and replaces it with a surge of excitement, exhilaration. Silently, he turns his back on Luke.

Luke whimpers pitifully, a small sound of hurt that he tries to hide. But, Luke's broken, a mess of need and shame and pain, until Bray decides to put him back together. Bray can take as long as he wants to acknowledge Luke and he will stay there, down on his knees. Bray can do anything to him and Luke will always come crawling back.   
  
Bray grins so wide his jaw hurts and tries to contain the feeling bubbling up in him, his elation over Luke's need of him greater than any of his fears. Laughter fills his throat and he swallows it back down. It's wrong for this moment.

He draws the wait for salvation out, listening to Luke try to control his harsh, quick breaths. The longer Bray pretends to contemplate his fate, the more frantic Luke's breathing becomes, but he's silent save for the whimpers he tries to suppress.    
  
Finally, he turns back to Luke and eyes him, gaze steely. He pushes his excitement down deep, locks it down like he locked down his fear, and steps forward slowly. Luke drops his head, unable to look at Bray with shame and desperation clouding his vision.  
  
Bray loves Luke's eyes, though. He loves the way Luke sees him through them - powerful, righteous, desirable. Worthy. The person reflected back at Bray from the dark of Luke's eyes is more him than the man Bray sees in the mirror.  
  
Bray says, "Look at me." He keeps his tone hard, his intentions unclear.  
  
Luke turns his face up to Bray and sets his jaw, his posture such that he seems to expect Bray will slap him. His chest is heaving with barely restrained sobs. Bray draws his hand back and brings it down fast, but stops short of hitting him. Instead, he presses his hand firmly against Luke's cheek, smoothes his beard down as he follows the line of his jaw to his chin. He slides his hand back up and sinks his fingers into Luke's beard, cupping his face with one hand.  
  
Eyes wide, Luke sucks in a shuddery, relived breath.  
  
"You've not failed me," Bray says, letting the words slip from his mouth like a sigh. With Luke's relief, his own strange excitement begins to seep from him, replaced by calmer surety. He becomes the person Luke sees.   
  
Bray tells Luke, "The Beast is formidable, and yet you had him on his back. You have shown he can be conquered. His time is coming, and, when it does, you will be by my side as I topple the Beast and his false prophet."  
  
Luke presses against Bray's hand and reaches up, caressing Bray's wrist with shaking fingers and pressing his palm to the back of Bray's hand, interlacing their fingers.  
  
"Bray -" he pauses, turns his head and kisses the center of Bray's palm and nuzzles his hand. "Thank you." He mouths at Bray's wrist, kissing the underside and licking to the knob of bone on the side. "Thank you," he says again.  
  
Bray smiles again, softer this time. He soothes Luke's pain with tenderness now, petting Luke's hair gently as he allows Luke to continue kissing the underside of his wrist.  
  
Later, they'll cram into a shower too small for the two of them and Bray will trace every inch of Luke's skin with his mouth and hands. He'll take him to bed and hold Luke in his arms and it will feel like he's gathering the pieces of him back together, that it's only through his grace that Luke is whole.    


End file.
